


old distractions win

by groundopenwide



Series: lads on tour [2]
Category: Bastille (Band), Music RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: Ed’s never been to Scotland.
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Ed Wetenhall
Series: lads on tour [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805506
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	old distractions win

Ed’s never been to Scotland. 

It turns out to be both exactly what he expects and nothing of the sort. Tall, crumbling castles and near-incomprehensible accents—he’d been prepared for that. They’ve got a single show booked in Glasgow tomorrow night, and it feels almost normal to wander the narrow streets in preparation, to stare up at the archways and cathedral spires in vague recognition. 

It’s when they venture out of the city that everything shifts. Rows of tightly-packed buildings turn to sprawling fields and jagged rocks. Ed just—hadn’t expected for everything to be so  _ green. _

“Are we on  _ Game of Thrones  _ or what?” Ben exclaims, throwing out his arms in excitement.

The hills roll on endlessly, grass as far as the eye can see. In some places the earth swoops up to meet the sky in jagged, scattered points. Ben spins around in a little circle in the middle of it all, laughing. Ed shields a hand over his eyes and watches him.

“It wasn’t all that glamorous—at least, not according to Dan,” Charlie says from beside him.

“Well, of course it wasn’t. They film in sub-zero temperatures most of the time,” says Ben. “But still. It’s  _ Game of Thrones.” _

“Yeah,” Charlie agrees. 

He’s smiling, the corners of his eyes all scrunched. Ed cuts his gaze away, says, “too bad you didn’t get to join them. Would’ve been wicked—the cameo, I mean.”

“That’s alright.” Charlie’s looking away now, too; Ed can see him shift in his peripheral. “I don’t really do that sort of thing with them, anyway.” 

It doesn’t sound alright. It never does. Ed’s always wondered about it.  _ Don’t you want to do that sort of thing?  _ he wants to ask.  _ They’re supposed to be your mates. They’re supposed to be like us. Supposed to be—better than us. That’s why you left us for them, isn’t it?  _

He swallows down the swell of emotion. “Beats High Wycombe, that’s for sure,” he says instead.

“You love High Wycombe.”

Charlie says this with such certainty, with years of knowledge and friendship lying beneath the words. He says it like he knows he’s right, the tiniest bit of amusement in his voice. And he  _ is  _ right. Ed hates it. He hates the smile that twitches at his mouth without permission, hates the way his stomach flips like he’s riding a loop-the-loop at Thorpe Park.

“I do,” he admits.

Charlie smiles back at him. He’s still got that snaggletooth, the same one he’s had forever. Hasn’t bothered getting it fixed. It’s comforting, somehow, that this one thing—even so minuscule—has managed to stay stagnant amidst the chaos. Ed’s always found it endearing, the snaggletooth. Sort of cute, even. 

“Get down here!” Ben calls.

He’s waving up from the bottom of the hill in front of them. Ed waves back, Charlie throws him a thumbs-up, and then the two of them are laughing helplessly as Ben flips them the bird in reply. An invisible weight lifts from Ed’s shoulders.

“C’mon,” says Charlie. “You can give me a lift.”

“You have two working legs—”

But Charlie’s already behind him, leaping onto his back like some kind of spider monkey, arms looped around his neck and knees digging into his back. Ed yells and barely manages to keep them both upright. He stumbles, hooking his arms beneath Charlie’s legs at the last second to keep him in place.

“Give me some warning next time, at least,” he says.

Charlie’s laugh is loud and bright against his ear. It settles something inside of him, something he hadn’t realized had come loose in the first place. 

They’re both nearing thirty. Too old for this. Too old to scuffling around like schoolboys on a Scottish hillside, but it feels right in a way that little else does, these days. Charlie’s heart beats against his back, steady in time with his own, and Ed feels—mighty. Like a child in his first superhero costume cape, ready to take on whatever the world may throw his way. 

“Onwards!” Charlie declares, tapping Ed on the shoulder to spur him into motion. 

(They don’t quite make it to Ben in one piece, but the grass stains on Ed’s trousers are worth it for the beaming grin Charlie gives him afterwards.)


End file.
